Written by
Alfonso Cuarón, Timothy J. Sexton, David Arata, Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby (screenplay); P.D. James (novel)
Starring Clive Owen, Julianne Moore, Michael Caine, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Claire-Hope Ashitey
Genre: Adventure / Drama / Sci-Fi / Thriller
Country: UK / USA
Runtime: 109 minutes
MPAA Rating: Rated R for strong violence, language, some drug use and brief nudity.

Evaluation: 7.5/10
by Greg Ferguson





Speculative fiction about the breakdown of human civilization seems to be in vogue again these days, no doubt thanks to current world affairs which to many already signal its beginning. Ranging from preposterous fanboy prophecies (V For Vendetta) and allegorical zombie/monster horrors (the resurgence of George A. Romero's "Dead" franchise; 28 Days Later) to more alarmist political fare (Death Of A President) and pure candy-ass family hokum (TV's Jericho), few of today's additions to the genre stand up to the seminal works of the Cold War era (just pick up the newly-restored DVD version of Peter Watkins' The War Game to see for yourself). Children Of Men, based on the novel by P.D. James and directed by Alfonso Cuarón, a man potent with artistic expression and social consciousness, is the latest offering in this ongoing symposium on the state of our collective malaise and sniveling decrepitude as a species. With its gritty veneer and drab palette, its vision of a futuristic world in which sterility has put a definite expiry date on our legacy promises to be every bit as uncompromising and unflinching as the real thing should it ever happen. Cuarón and his crew certainly do enough cinematic backflips with art direction and mise-en-scène in order to convince us, but in a film so concerned with matching its imagery with insight into our intra- and interpersonal behaviours, it is surprising that it is not supported by events and characters made particularly clear or meaningful to us. Though it opens a dialogue on the fragility of our social fabric, Children Of Men curiously has little to offer on the matter apart from what's superficially provocative.

The problem with Children Of Men resides in its adaptation, which has excised a great deal of helpful background information from the original novel to effect a brisk and relentless visceral experience. With the slightest of explanation, we're thrust into a severely crippled post-Apocalyptic England and expected to accept each of the startling developments depicted (why "Only Britain still soldiers on" despite the statement that "The nations of Earth have fallen" is for me the most unlikely mystery). Amidst the widespread depression and apathy over humanity's demise, the entitlement of the privileged to what diminished resources remain, concerns over immigration policies, and the violence they all inspire (in some nations, as we glean from splashes of media, nuclear terrorism), it is immensely dissatisfying to be made to follow around the very bland and unappealing Theo (Clive Owen) as he yawns his way through a nearby explosion on his way home from work and stumbles into a plot to smuggle a recently impregnated young woman (Claire-Hope Ashitey) - the first known in over eighteen years - to a non-governmental, off-shore scientific initiative called The Human Project where she will be instrumental in discovering a means for repopulating the planet. Never mind that such a community of do-gooders would have been already co-opted by any number of organizations or assailants, or that any serviceable government (especially old stoic Blighty) would have long ago began compiling its own research. Accuracy, as well as a reasonable amount of context, can be sacrificed if it means audiences less inclined to think about what they're seeing will be ensured a heart-quickening chase and bloody struggle for survival.

Cuarón is no stranger to bringing literary favourites to the big screen. Having previously given us his take on A Little Princess, Great Expectations, and Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, he is widely recognized for liberally altering the source material as a jumping point for his unique visual talents and political beliefs. Children Of Men is no different in this respect, and one senses after watching it a hint of what could have been had he been the one to direct the similarly-themed fertility thriller A Handmaid's Tale, based on Margaret Atwood's story but directed in 1990 by Volker Schlöndorff. If for nothing else, this film is worth seeing for two extraordinary long-takes Cuarón stages with no better reason for being there than they look damn impressive. The first is a delicate exercise in precision orchestrated around an innocent cruise through quaint backwoods as Theo rides with his activist ex-wife Julian (Julianne Moore) and her politicized pro-immigration gang The Fish on their way to their compound. Beginning with what must have been a very difficult trick to perfect, requiring Theo and Julian to juggle a ping-pong ball back-and-forth using only their mouths, then ending with a murderous mob's fiery ambush and the unexpected death of one of the film's leads, this scene is a nervy showcase of talent that is unfortunately sabotaged by a milquetoast, half-hearted screenplay. Likewise, the film's final grimy battle between England's armed forces and the rebellious Fish is a well-crafted slice of cinema vérité, but its impact is sorely diminished by the filmmakers' failure to flesh out the broader sense of crisis they initially set up. Unmistakably prodigious, they are like expensive pieces of furniture in an otherwise drab and nondescript domicile.

Somewhere buried within Children Of Men are some usefully horrific approximations of what life on Earth might be like if we were suddenly faced with our mortality. Sadly, the film sees fit to conceal its deepest thoughts as if they were merely adjunct to the meat-and-potatoes action of a landscape plagued with death and destruction, which on a basic level is admittedly entertaining and functionally sustainable as a feature-length thrill ride. Still, for those who desire something deeper, Cuarón and his team achieve little more than perfunctory hope for humanity with their hollow neo-realist facade and lacklustre hero's journey. More damning, though, is that by choosing not to explore the issues they raise, the filmmakers reveal a pitiful lack of hope for audiences' curiosities and attention spans. The film may be titled Children Of Men, but there's no need to treat us as such.

(Children Of Men will play in select theatres on Christmas Day and open wide on December 29.)